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He had something across his knees. ‘Tell me, my boy. “For great passions, for great accomplishments. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. A strange betrothal!—the primal idea of which was escape! The girl, intent upon abrogating for ever all legal rights of the father in the daughter, of rendering innocuous the thing she had now named the Terror: the boy, seeking selfcrucifixion in expiation of his transgression, changing a peccadillo into damnation! It was easy for Ruth to surrender to the idea, for she believed she was loved; and in gratitude it was already her determination to give this boy her heart's blood, drop by drop, if he wanted it.
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